


Stone in Time

by Fantasio



Category: Piazze d'Italia - Giorgio de Chirico
Genre: Art, Existentialism, Gen, M/M, Surrealism, Yuletide Treat, vague shades of M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 08:21:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5532368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fantasio/pseuds/Fantasio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As we rose at dawn, the wind brings us back to stone in time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stone in Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [faceofstone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/faceofstone/gifts).



The two men had chosen to meet on the 14th of February. Exactly as the 2pm train left in the distance, they would shake hands, exchange about the weather, which will be scorching and dry as it is in an Italian desert after a nuclear war.

The first man had promised. He would not forget the date. He could not forget the date. He had that set in stone.

The other man, always following, had agreed. After all, what would be worse? Waiting without knowing, the permanent state of stationary death. Or knowing, and crumbling. Was not time as fickle as wind and dust, anyway?

The two men knew each other from when they were still un-men, ungainly children of sand. While the sun rose and fell and the time passed, they waited and grew. As teenagers they knew love and loss. As art students they knew the outer part of the canvas of life. Man n°2 even tried to learn new languages, hoping he would understand everything better. That worked for a time.

But the opacity of their lives carried on. The world seemed to turn so grey and cold, and sometimes sudden burst of scarlet death appeared at the corners of neighbouring countries. The loudspeakers started blaring at any time of the day and night, carrying word of sorrow and blinding human beauty. They said the old Continent was doomed, they said it would come and they would all better change into eternal statues of salt. Young Man n°2 would then always make some unfunny joke, to make it seem like they would be eternal anyway, even with the War, even with the Fear. Man n°1 would shut him up.

When the wind of time and sorrowful change finally came to the doors of Italiona, the Machines That Saw decided to shup everything up. Massive drops of sand came down from the skies, hiding everyone, silencing every word, killing every sound. All would be better now. 

As they both started to be swallowed up by the sand, Man n°1 started screaming-it was the first time, no, second, that he had screamed because of Man n°2. The first time had been much more agreeable, however. Different times, for different men. Man n°2 could hear the words. He could remember the date, he could remember the place. But the ground tore the world down and everything went quiet. Peace on Earth and Good Will to All Men.

 

On the 14th of February, the two men stepped out of the same train. They had both missed the 12:50 and it was now 2:10. They smiled and waved at each other nonetheless.

Walking to the center of the old Piazze, they extended their arms and shook hands in a daze of lost memories. The old statue was still here, drapped in its nudity as it had been before, when people of sand came to bow before it. The flags on the all-reliable Tower flapped in the wind behind them. The clock hands on n°1's wrist ticked back to 2.

Looking into each other's eyes, they saw what was left and what was to come. Aged 301 hundreds years but still luminous in the desert light, they dared to ask themselves if they would, if they could be a part of this new world. But the clocks of stone and time laughed and chimed, bringing word of the never-learned and always understood.

 

For a moment, everything was still. The two men, both children and elderly, both friends and lovers, both dead and alive, stood in the emptiness of light. They breathed in the wind of change brought from above, in the emotion shared, in the love they felt in both their beating hearts. In that moment, they were more alive than all the dead in the world.

 

Both of their faces started to crack. Smiling at each other, they kept holding hands, watching peacefully as their entire bodies crumbled down, the stone that made them finally breaking now, exploding in the illusion of the infinite moment.

 

Then, they both disappeared. The train went through the opaque stillness in the distance, whistling two times as it passed by their spot. All fell, and all was still again.

 

In the country that never was, the rendez-vous had been met, earnest expectations answered. The dawn could rise again in the empty piazze.

 

The gathered had been known for their faces of stone. As the sun rose one last time, dust was blown over the realms of time.

**Author's Note:**

> Well. That was strange. I loved your prompts and those De Chirico paintings, felt very inspired, so I thought I might give it a go! You said in your letter that surrealism was welcome, but I must say I might have gotten a little carried with it! Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy that little piece! :)
> 
> Happy Madness Yuletide!


End file.
